


a belated gift

by youcouldmakealife



Series: you could make a life [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not the most auspicious beginning to a threesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a belated gift

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in emails as my first installment of 'Everybody Loves Larsson' for my dear Clo, and as such it's definitely not polished, so take it in the spirit it was intended: as porny commentfic, in which all writing is just exposition or porn. This takes place a couple years after the end of 'you could make a life', and is more of an outtake, but I didn't know where to put it other than in the series, so here it is.

It's just over two years they've been married, and as such they haven't been celebrating their original anniversary date, AKA: when they finally fucked out the sexual tension (Dan didn’t call it that around other people). It's always a hard anniversary anyway, because more often than not at least one of them is sort of busy, considering they had the spectacular bad sense to seal the deal during playoffs. This year, however, Dan's not in the playoffs--unsurprising, even after Ottawa's triumphant sneak into the playoffs last year (and subsequent trouncing of the Habs in the first round--they don't talk about that time). Larsson's not, because Florida's generally pathetic. And Marc's not: the Habs were just edged out by the Leafs, and he's in a _spectacularly_ bad mood about it.

So everyone's currently off work and sort of depressed about it, and Larsson stops in Toronto for a few days before he heads home to Sweden for the offseason. Him and Marc go out alone that night, because Dan is happy to let them have their ‘best friends torn apart by fate and the hockey gods’ moment. Carruthers comes down from Brampton, so him and Dan hang out, and Dan pats him on the back a lot and tries to talk him through the panic attack he's having over the fact Bowman's going to be a free-agent really soon, and what if Ottawa doesn't offer him anything, WHAT WOULD CARRUTHERS DO?! And Dan too obviously, this is a linemate thing, don't look at me like that, Riley. Asshole.

Dan comes home after shoving a plastered Carruthers in a cab and paying an absolutely ridiculous fare to get him home safe, and Marc's already in bed with a book, all settled down for the night, so you could forgive him if he didn't expect the first words out of Marc's mouth to be "What do you think about actually having a threesome with Ulf?" You could also forgive him for tripping on the jeans he's half out of and falling on his face in what is a pretty spectacular reenactment of the whole reason behind their anniversary. .

Once Marc's done laughing at him, he scoots to the edge of the bed to check if Dan has concussed himself.

"Seriously?" Dan asks.

"Seriously," Marc says. "It is our anniversary tomorrow," he says, and shrugs one shoulder. "We still have his wedding gift."

"He said that was a joke," Dan says weakly and untangles himself from his jeans.

"He lied," Marc says.

And like, Marc is the love of his life, Dan's not going to dispute that ever, and he's honestly happy with it just being Marc forever, he can live with that, because nothing is as important to him as Marc is, up to and including sexual variety, but he hasn't had sex with another guy since he was eighteen, Marc hasn't had sex with another guy _ever_ , and this would probably be actually good for them. Sex with Marc isn't stale, it never can be when they're apart so much that the laziest handjob in the world is an extremely exciting change from Dan's own right hand, but have you seen Larsson? He is a god. A Swedish god. Of sex. He is so attractive it makes people want to cry, Dan honestly had a perfectly good excuse to hate him back when he was winning Marc over.

"You're not going to be mad?" Dan asks, tentative. Marc is a moody little fuck sometimes, but he isn't the type for manipulative mind games and questions to test him. But still, Alex wasn't wrong when he said that Marc hated him because Alex had slept with Dan and Marc was extremely possessive of him. If Dan's a one guy kind of guy (he isn't, generally, from his experience, but Marc's it for him so that's irrelevant), Marc is THE one guy kind of guy. 

When Larsson described 'Dan' as Marc's type, he wasn't even exaggerating. Sure, Marc managed to actually get laid at some point before meeting Dan, but that was with one person, by all indications it sucked, and Marc's barely looked at anyone since. Dan tentatively asked Sarah at one point and then she sent him about 10 articles about demisexuality. He read two! He's proud of himself. And Marc is really close to Larsson, so he could genuinely be the exception.

Marc rolls his eyes at him. "Why would I get mad?" he asks. "I asked you."

"Do _you_ want to have a threesome with Larsson?" Dan hedges.

"Why are you still on the floor?" Marc asks. It's a good question.

Dan hauls himself up, finally gets his jeans off properly, and crawls into bed beside Marc, lets Marc rearrange him until he's content.

"So let me get this straight," Dan says. "You and me and Larsson. Having sex."

"Does threesome mean something different to you?" Marc asks.

Excuse Dan for checking to see if he's actually hit his head when something this awesome is happening to him. 

"And Larsson...offered?" Dan asks. "Not jokingly?"

"Yes," Marc says patiently. "And you probably should not call him Larsson in bed."

Dan will, thank you, because 'Ulf' sounds infinitely weirder.

"So?" Marc asks.

"Yes?" Dan says.

"Okay," Marc says. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow?" Dan squeaks.

"Tomorrow," Marc confirms.

"Oh my god," Dan whispers to himself, and Marc laughs at him and slides his hand down the back of Dan's boxers. 

Dan's life is the most amazing thing in the world.

*

The next night Larsson comes over for dinner (they ordered in, Dan isn’t going to risk the threesome by giving them all food poisoning), and they very maturely discuss their threesome over drinks.

Or, okay, Marc and Larsson very maturely discuss it while Dan stares at them and fervently hopes Larsson doesn’t notice he’s hard in his jeans, before realising that doesn’t matter because Larsson’s going to see him hard OUT of his jeans.

Jesus. 

In this very mature discussion Dan finds out that this is only a threesome in the loosest sense, considering Marc’s type really is ‘Dan’, and Larsson thinks of Marc as a little brother, but with less incest implied in the threesome thing. So. Basically it’s Dan. In bed. With Marc and Larsson, who will both be pretty much focusing on him.

“Did I hit my head when I fell out of my pants?” Dan asks Marc.

“No, cher,” Marc says, amused, while Larsson looks slightly alarmed.

“You’re attracted to me?” Dan asks Larsson, and vaguely waves his hand in his direction, where he remains blond, Swedish, and godlike.

“I have no idea why,” Larsson says dryly, and just laughs when Marc leans over to hit him.

And this is like--Dan’s birthday isn’t for two weeks, but he doesn’t need Marc to get him anything for it. Or Christmas. Or ever again. Because Dan’s dick was totally in favour of this idea from the get-go, Dan’s dick loved this idea, but Dan’s brain meekly asked how Dan would feel watching Marc with someone else, and the answer was that he didn’t know.

He’s not possessive, he doesn’t think he is, at least, though Marc’s never given him any reason to be, see: not even interested in Ulf Larsson, Swedish Sex God. But he didn’t know that last thing until now, and there was a part of him wondering what the hell Marc would be doing with a guy like him if he could have a guy like Larsson. He realises how stupid that is, because Dan can have a guy like Larsson, at least for the night, is, in fact, attractive to Larsson, apparently, and that has no connection whatsoever to his feelings for Marc. 

But instead Dan gets to have sex with Swedish Sex God Ulf Larsson and Love of His Life Marc Lapointe. Together. At the same time. Because he must’ve done something wonderful. 

Marc and Larsson get off the topic of all the amazing sex Dan is about to be involved in, and go on to talk about some book (they have a long distance book club and it is fucking adorable), while Dan tunes out and focuses on his good fortune. 

Larsson looks good. Larsson always looks good, like he’s stepped out of some magazine instead of off the ice, hair the shade of blond that women bleach their hair endlessly trying to get, body lean and long, skin tan from the endless Florida sun, all shiny white grin and pale blue eyes. He and Marc are a bit of a study of opposites, despite the superficial blond haired blue eyed similarity, Marc’s hair sandy and eyes darker, Marc all compact muscle, easy to tuck under Dan’s arm, while Dan’s got maybe an inch on Larsson at most. Larsson’s warmly tanned everywhere Dan can see, while Marc’s got the first freckles of summer popping up since he’s started joining Dan on his daily runs, complaining the whole time. 

Dan’s never really looked that closely at Larsson, first because his insanely amazing face was just upsetting to Dan when Larsson took over book duty and movie duty, and Dan hoped not Dan duty. Then he was Marc’s best friend, who was wonderful enough to take over book duty and movie duty and leave Dan to the Dan duties. He’s pretty sure you’re not supposed to look at your husband’s best friend, but with permission and the leisure to look, well. Larsson is, without a doubt, the hottest person Dan will have ever slept with.

The conversation slowly dies off, and Dan feels like a total idiot when they actually pay attention to him and there he is, leering shamelessly. It’s not his fault. He’s overwhelmed right now. Even so, he can feel a blush creep up the back of his neck, and Larsson’s mouth quirks into a smirk that has no right being attractive as it is, considering he usually uses it when him and Marc team up on mocking Dan.

“Um,” Dan says eloquently, and there Marc’s smirk is, joining the mockery. Dan’s going to have a really unfortunate reaction to being mocked in the future, he thinks. Is that a kink? It probably is, but he doesn’t think he had it until right this minute. “Are there, like, rules? Regulations?”

“Threesome rules and regulations?” Marc asks.

“Yeah?” Dan says. How’s he supposed to know, it’s not like he’s done this ever.

“How about this,” Larsson says. “Do what feels good and tell me if anything doesn’t.”

“That’s it?” Dan asks.

“That’s it,” Larsson confirms.

It all sounds so simple. So suspiciously simple, like Dan came home yesterday and got ‘surprise, threesome with one of the hottest guys ever! except not because both of us are going to be focused on you so basically it’s me and the hottest guy ever getting down on you! no rules, just sex!’. 

“We broke his brain,” Marc murmurs, then, “come here, cher.”

Dan gets up, goes to sit beside Marc on the couch, and Marc draws him into a kiss, slow and easy, the kind that happen when they wake up and don’t have to be anywhere, can just trade kisses while they’re still sleep warm and drowsy eyed. Dan realises Marc’s trying to calm him down when Marc starts to succeed, Dan relaxing despite himself, until Marc pulls back. He dimly hears Larsson’s, “can I?”, and Marc’s “sure,” the two of them negotiating something, before Larsson scoots over, leaning over Marc and catching Dan’s mouth.

That isn’t relaxing. Larsson’s kissing him slow, but it’s not lazy, it’s not easy, it’s thorough, like Larsson’s learning everything about him by the way their mouths fit together, the stroke of his tongue against Dan’s. When Dan makes a noise against his mouth, Larsson’s lips quirk slightly, like he can’t help the mockery, but he curves a palm over the back of Dan’s neck, bites Dan’s bottom lip, and all mockery is fine, Dan doesn’t care, they can mock him throughout if they want.

When Larsson pulls back Dan looks at him, kind of dazed. 

“Bedroom?” Larsson asks.

“It’s over there,” Dan gestures vaguely.

“I know where it is,” Larsson says, “c’mon, Riley.”

He gets up, and Dan watches his ass with great appreciation.

“You have to use your legs,” Marc says, “ _Riley_.”

“No one asked you, Lapointe,” Dan says, but gets up.

“Oh god,” Larsson says. “If you guys flirt the whole fucking time I quit.”

“Flirt?” Marc asks innocently. “Who’s flirting?” 

Dan’s about to agree with Marc, but then Larsson’s glaring at them and tugging his shirt off, all on one amazing step, and he’s blinded by tan and abs and jesus christ, he looks like a Greek statue, hockey players are not supposed to have the bodies of Adonises, it’s not practical weight distribution. 

Marc nudges him. “Legs, Riley,” he reminds him, and Dan makes his legs work because if he doesn’t then he won’t get to put his mouth on those abs and that would be a crying shame.

Marc hipchecks him when they’re in the doorway, has this complicated wordless conversation with Larsson Dan can’t even begin to follow, before Larsson sits on the bed and Marc moves to straddle his lap, ducks down to kiss him. 

And the part of Dan that was worried that he’d be possessive, that he’d hate the sight of anyone else’s hands on Marc is currently blown out of the water by the part that finds this so fucking hot he can’t actually handle it, Marc’s thick, hockey player thighs on either side of Larsson’s hips, spread wide, Larsson’s hand coming up to curl in Marc’s hair, the obscene sound of their mouths. They look like they’ve done this a thousand times, and maybe that’s how comfortable they are, Marc not actually into Larsson but well aware of what this is doing to Dan. They laugh a little self-consciously when they part, and Larsson gives Marc a friendly pat on the ass before Marc rolls off him, reaching out to Dan, who comes to him.

“Hey,” Marc says, presses his smile against Dan’s hip. 

“Tease,” Dan says. 

“Not a tease if I follow through,” Marc says, and undoes the button of Dan’s jeans.

“Hey,” Larsson says. “I paid for skin, here.”

Dan gives him the finger but pulls his shirt off, suddenly self-conscious with the fact he’s not chiselled like Larsson, defined, but Larsson’s eyes sweep over him, slow, from the line of Dan’s throat to where Marc’s tugging his fly open, and there’s nothing in his expression that conveys disappointment.

“Stop hoarding,” Larsson says to Marc. “You have him all the time.”

Marc scowls, and bites the line of Dan’s hip, like he was the one saying it, but he lets go.

“Um,” Dan says. “Pants, or. Um.”

“Sure,” Larsson says. “Though I know you like it half-dressed too.”

“You told Larsson about what I like in bed?” Dan asks, appalled.

“Dan,” Marc says patiently. “Where are you right now?”

“In our bedroom,” Dan says.

“With?” Marc prompts.

“Larsson,” Dan mumbles.

Larsson is just silently laughing at him.

“And what are you going to call him?” Marc adds.

“Larsson,” Dan says immediately. “No offense man, but Ulf is a weird thing to say during sex, it sounds like a weird safe word,” he pauses. “Not that we use those.”

Marc raises his eyebrows.

“Shit, you told him _everything?_ ” Dan asks.

Larsson is curled into himself like he’s in pain, he’s laughing so hard.

This is not the most auspicious beginning to a threesome.

Once Larsson has recovered, still red-faced with tears in his eyes, he reaches out and manages to get hold of one of Dan’s belt loops, tugging him until Dan has to settle on the bed or accidentally crush him. “You’re hotter when you’re not talking,” Larsson says, and Dan would take it personally but Larsson’s pulling him down into a kiss, and there’s so much skin, so much he’s never touched, the definition of his stomach that leads to Larsson pulling away with a laugh--ticklish, then--the obscene cut of his hips above his belt, which Dan fumbles with, a little awkward since his right hand is busy getting acquainted with his absolutely insane deltoids (Dan doesn’t know if he’s more jealous or turned on right now). Larsson takes pity and helps him, and Dan gets his jeans half down his hips, his hand over Larsson’s briefs where he’s hot, wet enough to darken the grey fabric over the head of his cock. They have to untangle then, so they can actually get out of their jeans, but Dan wants to put his mouth on Larsson’s cock even more than his abs.

Marc’s tucked up at the head of the bed. He looks like he’s made himself comfortable, which he shouldn’t have, because he’s still wearing clothes and that’s not cool.

“Dude, clothes,” Dan says.

“Dude,” Marc parrots, then, “if it does not offend Ulf’s delicate sensibilities...”

“I guess you’re not appalling,” Larsson says, then, with relish, “Dude.”

Fuck, it drives Dan insane that English is their second language and they sound like that, relaxed and eloquent and _mocking Dan_ , while Dan will be lucky if he manages a full sentence right now. It isn’t fair.

There’s a break in the mockery and also the incredible hotness for the three of them to shed clothing, which is never a sexy thing, really, when you’ve been playing hockey all your life and see guys stripping about 20 times a day. Dan forgets his socks in his hurry and has to deal with them after, Marc’s jeans get caught on his thighs like always (skinny jeans and hockey thighs don’t mix, but Dan doesn’t mind because skinny jeans over hockey thighs are fucking _beautiful_ ), and Larsson does it perfectly because he’s Larsson. 

And suddenly it’s less threesome and more just three guys with really awkward erections. Like a locker room horror story.

“What do you want?” Larsson says, finally, breaking the atmosphere.

Dan says, “I don’t know,” and then, realising that’s a total lie, “I want to suck your cock.”

Larsson groans, leans back. “Dude, go for it,” he says. 

Dan’s happy to listen, folds himself onto his knees, fingers curling around the base of his cock. He hasn’t sucked a cock other than Marc’s in years, and he misses that part more than anything, loves the way he has to learn reactions on the fly, the way the muscles of Larsson’s thighs (also insane, unsurprisingly) jerk against Dan’s arm when he tongues under the head of his cock. He’s cut, unlike Marc, but that takes about two seconds of mental readjustment, since most of the guys he got on his knees for were. He doesn’t bother with anything like finesse, probably looks like he’s fucking gagging for it because he _is_ , loves the way Larsson stretches his mouth, the bitter taste of him, the way Dan’s nose nudges against skin when he manages to swallow around him, because of course he shaves, how could Dan have expected anything else? 

“He is good at this,” Marc says, low. “Right? Got a lot of practice. He loves it.”

“Fuck off, Marc, you’re not helping,” Larsson says through what sounds like gritted teeth.

And Dan had no idea that this would be such a turn on either, Marc talking about Dan, low and dirty and sounding so fucking smug, so proud of him. 

“He could probably get you off just like this,” Marc says. “But I think you would prefer to come inside him.”

Dan makes a noise around Larsson, can’t help it, and Larsson reaches down, clamps a hand tight around the base of his cock, nudging at Dan’s head until he takes the hint and pulls off, wiping the back of his mouth and looking up. Marc’s leaning against Larsson, their shoulders bumping, eyes half-lidded and smirk showing he knows exactly what this is doing to Dan.

“Fuck,” Larsson says, then, less composed than Dan’s ever seen him, “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, fast. He’s never going to turn down the opportunity, since he rarely gets topped, Marc too fucking lazy to do it, and more importantly, too into getting fucked. Which Dan really appreciates, don’t get him wrong, it’s like 80% of his jerk off material, but it basically never happens the other way, and Larsson’s got the perfect cock for it, just thick enough to feel it, but not too much for him to take.

Larsson’s got his hand curled in Dan’s hair, and when Dan leans forward, presses a leisurely kiss against the tip of his cock, just a ‘I’ll miss you when my mouth isn’t around you’, he pulls Dan back by the hair, and Dan has to bite down on his lip to avoid making a sound.

“Told you,” Marc says, so it’s safe to say Dan biting his lip was pointless because Marc really told Larsson _everything_. Ass.

“Yeah,” Larsson says, sort of breathless, and tightens his hand more. Dan doesn’t bother to muffle the noise he makes until it’s made against Larsson’s mouth, his hand still fisted in Dan’s hair. Marc noses at Dan’s shoulder, and then, when he pulls back, starts poking at Larsson like a fucking brat, no wonder Larsson looks at him like a little brother, but he silently offers him lube, so Larsson visibly bites back whatever he was going to say. 

“Condoms?” Larsson asks, and Dan and Marc take a moment to share a horrified look.

“Seriously?” Larsson asks. “Safe sex, guys.”

“Seventh year anniversary,” Marc retorts, but gets off the bed and goes rooting through Larsson’s jeans for a minute before he comes up victorious.

“You always keep a condom on you?” Dan asks, and Larsson shrugs, like condom related emergencies always happen to him. They probably do. “And Marc knows where it is?”

Marc shrugs as well when he’s climbing back onto the bed.

“Your friendship scares me sometimes,” Dan says, totally honest.

“Come blow me while Ulf fingers you,” Marc says, bossy.

“Scares me so much,” Dan says, but he waits until Marc’s leaning against the pillows before he crawls between his legs, doesn’t bother with anything but swallowing him down, tight, hot suction until Marc’s hand fists in his hair, just painful enough for Dan to like it.

He has no idea what silent conversation Marc and Larsson are having above his bowed head, but it makes Larsson chuckle, quiet, before he’s pressing a finger in, lube slick and slow.

Dan hums around Marc, tongues at the vein on the underside of his cock. “You do not have to go slow,” Marc says, voice almost completely even. “He likes it when it hurts a little.”

“Fuck,” Larsson says, head dropping against Dan’s back. “Since when do you have such a dirty fucking mouth, Marc?” he asks.

Dan’s kind of wondering the same thing. He isn’t _quiet_ in bed, but he’s vocal, not talkative. But it’s not something he can think about for long, because then Larsson’s pushing another finger in him, not careful, not at all, and Dan has to pull off, rest his face against Marc’s hip.

Marc rubs his thumb behind Dan’s ear, waits until Dan’s caught his breath before he’s got his hand back in Dan’s hair, pulling him up enough that he can push his cock between Dan’s lips, slow but forceful. His breathing is fast, rough, and Dan realises, suddenly, that he likes this just as much, likes showing Dan off, knowing that someone else knows how much Dan loves it, how eager he is, how easy. 

Larsson’s skilled, relentless, stretches him around three fingers before he focuses mercilessly on Dan’s prostate, rubbing up against it until Dan can’t do more than hold Marc’s cock in his mouth, not that Marc seems to care, jerking against Dan’s tongue whenever Dan can’t hold back a noise.

Larsson pulls his fingers out, and Dan can’t help the way his hips shift back, chasing sensation. “Fuck, Riley,” Larsson says, kind of wondering. 

Dan can feel his cheeks heat, but he trusts Larsson because Marc trusts Larsson, and that’s enough. “Up,” Marc says, tapping Dan’s cheek, and Dan pulls off, lets Marc pull him up into a kiss. “How do you want it?” Marc asks, mouth brushing Dan’s, and Dan can’t even begin to answer that, suddenly overwhelmed by options. “On your back?” he asks, low, “your knees?”

Now that Dan knows there is this inside of Marc, he is going to devote the rest of his life to making sure it comes out as often as possible. 

And people said marriages went stale.

“Knees,” Dan says, finally, then “I can--” 

“No,” Marc says. “I trust you, but not enough to put my dick in your mouth while you are that distracted.”

Larsson snorts.

“Shut up, Larsson,” Dan says, at the same time Marc says, “fuck off, Ulf.”

“You two are so sweet,” Larsson says, and then he reaches around Dan, wraps a hand around his cock, fisting him slow, exploratory. Dan startles, bites down on his lip. 

“Hands and knees,” Marc says. “And maybe I will come on your face.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Dan manages, and Larsson’s hand tightens around him. He gets back on his hands and knees, presses his face against Marc’s thigh, eyes falling shut as he listens to Larsson behind him, the unmistakable sound of foil, of a lube slick fist. They tighten when he feels Larsson against him, blunt, hot pressure, his mouth falling open when Larsson pushes in, a slow, smooth slide, just enough to burn.

“Fuck,” Larsson says, dim, then, “I have no idea why you’re not fucking him every chance you get,” presumably to Marc, who’s carding his fingers through the back of Dan’s hair, half soothing, half a reminder he could grab him and put Dan’s mouth anywhere he wanted it to go.

Marc moves slightly under his Dan’s mouth, shrugging or something, and then says, “look, cher, he loves how easy you take it,” something Larsson seems to agree with, if Dan’s judging by the way Larsson’s fingers tighten around his hips, pulling Dan back against him as much as pushing into him.

Marc pulls Dan’s hair lightly until Dan looks up at him, or tries to, his eyes falling half shut when Larsson drags against his prostate and then at the noise Dan makes, a crazy quick study, switches to short, sharp thrusts that rub up against it relentlessly. “Look at you,” Marc says, sounding fond, and Dan can only imagine, red faced, eyes half shut, mouth open, practically gagging for it. He would be, if Marc would let Dan suck his cock, but instead Marc’s looking him in the eye, smiling slightly, like Dan’s done something good. 

Marc’s hand curls around his cock, then, and Dan’s almost jealous, which is fucking ridiculous, but Marc won’t let him get his mouth around him, and if Dan doesn’t have the coordination to get his own hand around Marc’s cock without falling flat on his face. Marc seems to realise that, because it’s more for show than anything, a slow drag of his hand instead of the fast, hard, tight that’s his typical when he’s close and Dan can’t jerk him off and keep fucking him the pace Marc demands like a fucking drill sergeant. Fucking Marc is his favourite part of his exercise regimen, but it’s just as much of a workout as the rest of his training.

This isn’t anything like that, Marc’s thumb rubbing over the head of his cock, smearing precome until he’s slick and glistening, watching Dan watching the movement of his hand. Dan doesn’t even know what to focus on, here, can’t fully focus on anything, the slow show Marc’s putting on, the drag of Larsson’s cock in him, the stretch satisfying in a way he’s almost forgotten.

Marc’s hand speeds up, less of a show and more just getting himself off, and it’s practically simultaneous with Larsson’s thrusts changing, short and hard, almost brutal. It’s funny, the two of them in sync, or it would be if it wasn’t taking Dan apart. “Dan,” Marc says, low and rough, and Dan knows enough to close his eyes before Marc’s coming on his face, hot streaks against his cheeks, his mouth, his closed eyelids.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Larsson says, pulls Dan backwards, hips bruising against Dan’s ass, fingers bruising on his hips. It’s so good it hurts, or hurts enough to be amazing, Larsson just using him, hard, while Marc reaches down and slides his thumb across Dan’s bottom lip, rubbing his come in. Dan can feel when Larsson comes, muscles going tight, and barely has time to enjoy it before Larsson’s pulling out, manhandling him onto his back, and sucking him down, no frills, just suction so good it makes his toes curl.

Dan wants to see, but he can’t, can feel Marc’s come sticky against his lids, his lashes, but it’s over too soon anyway, Larsson letting him shove his hips up before he can help himself, letting Dan come down his throat.

Dan doesn’t think he can feel anything for a minute, wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him he blacked out, and then someone’s wiping off his face with a cotton t-shirt (Dan’s, he assumes, because he’s currently sharing a bed with assholes). 

When he opens his eyes it’s Marc, Dan’s t-shirt (of course) in his fist. “Hi,” Marc says.

“Salut,” Dan says, smiling at him, probably dopey.

“Give me five minutes,” Larsson groans from somewhere in the vicinity of Dan’s hip. “Five minutes and then you can cuddle.”

“You could stay,” Dan says, kneejerk polite host, but he kind of does want to cuddle.

“No way,” Larsson says. “I love you, Marc, and I am pretty sure I just fell in love with your ass, Riley, but there’s no fucking way I want you two being lovebirds anywhere near me.”

Dan rolls on his side to look at Marc, who rolls his eyes and then presses a kiss against Dan’s forehead.

“Okay, I’m up,” Larsson groans. “Don’t even give a man five minutes, that’s fine.”

“Thank you for coming,” Marc says brightly.

Dan stares at him, praying that wasn’t the most awful pun in the world. It probably was. Marc’s awful that way.

“I’m leaving tomorrow night,” Larsson says, as he’s getting his jeans on. “Coffee in the morning, Marc?”

Marc nods. 

“Okay,” Larsson says, getting his shirt on before he leans over and slaps Dan’s ass. “Good times, let’s do it again. Go cuddle, I’ll let myself out.”

Dan sits up, intent on at least walking him to the door, because his mother raised him right, and he’s sure you should treat someone who just had a threesome with you and your husband at least as well as you treat a normal guest, but Marc wraps himself around Dan and refuses to let go, just waving when Larsson leaves the room.

Marc’s tucked his face into Dan’s throat when their front door closes, and Dan, still reeling, fervently says “I love you.” 

“Just wait twenty minutes,” Marc says into his skin, then looking up, “when I fuck you while you’re still loose and open from him and come in you like he could not.”

Dan stares at him, completely mute. “Oh my god,” he whispers, finally, and kisses Marc’s filthy, gorgeous smile.


End file.
